


Love Meetings

by southside_stories



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Fred Andrews/FP Jones II - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 09:38:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13268736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/southside_stories/pseuds/southside_stories
Summary: FP and Fred's first meeting since his release.  One shot.





	Love Meetings

Knocking filled the Andrews household. Fred buried himself deeper into his blankets and turned to the side, calling out for his son. 

“Archie, the door!” he yelled sleepily. It took him a few moments to realize he hadn’t heard the heavy footsteps of his son. Rolling over reluctantly, he looked at the clock and groaned at the time.  _ Maybe they’ll just go away _ . But he had no such luck. The knocking only grew louder. With an exaggerated sigh, he crawled out of the cocoon he’d created, threw on a robe over his boxers and descended the stairs. Whoever it was, he was hoping he could get them to go away quickly. No one one in their right Riverdale mind would be up this early on a Saturday. Especially not during the holiday season.

A burst of cold air shocked him as he swung the door open, but it wasn’t as shocking as who was on the other side. Fred was momentarily stunned at the sight of his old friend, FP Jones, staring back at him. He’d known he was out, but he’d hadn’t gotten a chance to see him. No, more like he didn’t  _ want _ to see him. So much had happened and he didn’t know where to begin.

“Sorry for the intrusion. ‘Specially at this hour. I know you ain’t a morning person,” FP began, nervously rubbing the back of his head. At least, Fred thought he looked nervous. “Umm...I was wonderin’ if maybe Jughead was here? We had a bit of a—well, you know how it is with fathers and sons… Anyway, he didn’t come back last night and he’s not answering his phone, so I was hoping he might be here?” Although his face was set in its usual unreadable state, Fred had known FP too long to not see the worry in his eyes. He found himself off-balance for a moment, pinned by those dark eyes. It’d been so long since he’d be able to look into them.

“Fred?” FP’s voice snapped him from his thoughts. It was only then he’d realized he hadn’t spoken a single word since opening the door.

“Sorry,” he murmured absentmindedly, looking away. “Don’t think he’s here. Archie doesn’t seem to be around either. Feels like I’ve lost control of him most days.” Fred gave a reassuring smile. “Did you try—”

“The Coopers? No. I don’t think he and Betty are together anymore, but honestly I don’t know. Those two seem to break up and get back together every week.”

Fred laughed. “Same with Archie and Veronica. Guess some things never change.” A silence hung between them for a moment. Fred was brimming with everything he wanted to say to FP. But how could he do it without worrying him? It had been a rough few months with the shooting, physical therapy, and Archie creating that video. On top of all that, bills kept piling up the longer he was out of commission and unable to work.

“Well…” FP’s gaze came back to rest on Fred’s face, where he lingered a moment. Or maybe Fred had imagined it. “Thanks anyway, Fred. Good to see you.” He turned on his heel and started to walk down the steps of the Andrews’ household.

“Wait,” Fred called out, suddenly not wanting him to go. “I was just about to make some coffee. Why don’t you join me? We can...catch up.” It was about all he could manage to get out, all other words stopped in his throat. And then FP smiled and nodded, and Fred’s heart did a strange flip. Stepping inside, FP brushed past him, removing his coat and hanging it on the rack.

\----

“The coffee in prison was better than this,” FP laughed, leaning his hip on the kitchen island. He watched as Fred finished making a cup for himself. “Though I shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve always been shit at making coffee.”

“I know,” he lamented agreeably, turning to face his friend. “All those late nights on site suffering through endless disgusting cups of tar. Surprised you didn’t quit.”

“Well, it kept us awake and it wasn’t like  _ I _ was gonna do it.” They held each other’s gaze for a moment, eyes smiling. But before they could settle into this familiar warmth, FP’s face turned somber. “Why didn’t you come see me when I was inside? It was…” He trailed off and turned his head, a move Fred knew all too well. It was FP attempting to hide his feelings, uncomfortable with showing too much of himself.

Fred set down his mug and took a step toward FP. “I wanted to,” he said, his voice low. “I just couldn’t at the beginning and—”

“Couldn’t, or wouldn’t?” he retorted. He turned to face Fred fully, face contorted with emotion, and a familiar wave of guilt swept through Fred. He couldn’t imagine how FP had felt behind those bars, unable to be there for his son, seemingly abandoned by everyone in town, including his best friend. Before he could offer up an apology, FP continued. “I thought we were good now. It was awful in there, Fred. I’d served time before, but not like this. It felt endless; I was so fucking worried about Jug. And you know what? Aside from Jughead and Archie, no one else came. No one cared.” His voice broke on the last word. “Fuck, Fred, I know all that stuff between us is in the past, but I thought maybe at least  _ you _ would—”

“I was in the hospital,” Fred blurted out before he could stop himself. This was not how he wanted to tell him that he’d been shot and almost died, but he wanted him,  _ needed him _ , to know he would have been there. “Not long after you were sent away there was a...well…” He couldn’t say the words. He couldn’t tell him. It was too much to live through again. Instead, Fred reached up to the collar of his robe and pulled it back to reveal the bullet wound in his shoulder.

“ _ Shit _ , Fred.” FP studied the scar, lifting his fingers to slowly trace the raised flesh. “Why didn’t you—”

“I didn’t want you to worry, so I told the boys not to say anything.”

“Wasn’t your call,” FP whispered harshly. “Who di—”

“The sheriff got him. It’s over. Don’t need you avenging anything.” Again, a silence fell while they studied each other. Heat radiated between them. And as glad as Fred was to be able to be this close to him again, he could still feel the guilt twisting in his stomach. He should have gone to see him when he was better and told him everything. FP had been alone this entire time, scared, abandoned, and Fred hadn’t done anything.

“Well…” FP let his hand drop to Fred’s waist and pulled him closer, his face inches away. “Just happy you’re okay.” In that instant all the stolen moments from the past year seemed to rush to the present, and Fred remembered this feeling, from long, long ago. When things were less complicated. Fred raised his hand to run his fingers through FP’s hair, looking deep into his eyes, wishing desperately that FP would close the gap between them, would take that first step. As if in slow motion, their lips moved closer, breathing each other in, until—

“Sorry, fell asleep at Ronnie’s,” Archie called from the hall, and the two men stepped swiftly away from each other. Fred turned back to his coffee and tightened his robe, closing his eyes and silently cursing.

Kids always had the worst timing.


End file.
